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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25040503">Reunions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarigar31/pseuds/Sarigar31'>Sarigar31</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>World of Warcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Memories, Old Friends, Undercity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:28:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25040503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarigar31/pseuds/Sarigar31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathanos visits Undercity and runs into an old acquaintance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Reunions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>He strode through the halls to the round throne room, clad in the green and brown leather of a Ranger of Silvermoon. There were a lot of people there applauding the first human to be named Ranger. He stopped on the stylized L inlaid on the marble floor and knelt before his king. The king said some words of praise, then walked down and raised him up, placing a chain of office around his neck. A young boy with blonde hair stood by excitedly looking at him. He just wanted to go home…</em>
</p><p>Nathanos Blightcaller strode into the Ruins of the Capitol City making a point to trod upon the blood stains of the late King Terenas on his way to Undercity. The Dark Lady had called him to Lordaeron from his home – no - from his <em>post</em> in the Eastern Plaguelands. “<em>The man who owned that farm died to that overstuffed bag of rotting flesh years ago.</em>” He reminded himself.</p><p>He didn’t ask why she called; all that mattered was that she called, and he would answer. Always. <em>“The least she could have done was send a bat for me to ride back on,” </em>he grumbled silently. Instead he had had to ride the entire way with his blighthounds, fighting off scourge, blighted wildlife, and fanatical Scarlet Crusaders. It was during a fight with these last foes that his axe finally gave out. It had served him well before he was changed, but it had sat in the elements for years while he was part of the Lich King’s army. The rust weakened the steel to the point where it cracked the head in two as he sank it into a Scarlet Crusader’s skull with a satisfying thunk.</p><p>He exited the elevator and looked around. The Undercity was confusing to those who weren’t familiar with it. He found it easiest to simply go to the correct level and go around the circular halls until he found what he wanted. He knew about the four quarters; when he was here, he spent time in the War Quarter practicing his skills. Most of his time in Undercity was spent with his Queen, though. He wound his way down to the sewers and over the sickly green glowing fluid that flowed through them to the guarded hallway in the Apothecary Quarter.</p><p>The guards paid little attention to him; he was the Queen’s Champion after all. He ignored them as he wound his way to the Queen’s audience chamber, pausing in the archway to the chamber itself. Before Arthas had committed regicide, this was a tomb for some noble, maybe even a king. It was a large, round room with a high ceiling and a large dais in the center. Sylvanas had turned this into her audience chamber with a large chair in the center of the dais.</p><p>She lounged in that chair, her right leg over the right arm of the chair, her left leg resting just in front of the arm. She was beautiful when she was alive. Death had enhanced that beauty; terrifyingly so. Her golden hair now a pale straw color, her pink skin now a shade of bluish gray. Her blue eyes now glowed a red that could stop a man in his tracks. He once loved that woman with all of his heart. That heart stopped beating years ago and the love died with it. She freed him from the Lich King, and he owed her his loyalty because of that. Nothing more.</p><p>
  <em>Musical laughter filled the air as her golden hair flowed in the wind. He had work to do on the farm, yet here he was running up the hill with her. They often came here to gaze out at the world around them and be together where none would see them. They reached the peak of the hill and he wrapped his arms around her from behind. He placed his face next to hers and inhaled her scent: leather and earth and flowers all mixing together. They stood there for a few moments, then she turned to face him. He stared into her glowing blue eyes, then cupped her face in his rough hands, pulled her to him and kissed her deeply…</em>
</p><p>She was talking to her advisor, Varimathras, and hadn’t noticed him. His blighthounds growled at the demon and he agreed with them. He never trusted the demon, though he understood why his queen did. Without the demon’s help, she wouldn’t have been able to defeat Arthas and free the Forsaken. Still, Varimathras was a demon who had turned on his own brothers. It wouldn’t be out of character for him to turn on Sylvanas.</p><p>She turned at the sound of the growling and saw Nathanos standing there. With a flick of her wrist she sent the demon away, then smiled and beckoned her champion forward.</p><p>“Come, my Champion. Join me.”</p><p>He ordered his hounds to stay at the bottom of the stairs, then climbed them and knelt in front of his queen.</p><p>“You called for me, my Queen?”</p><p>“I did. You made excellent time.”</p><p>“I would have made better time if you had sent a bat along with that banshee.”</p><p>She laughed at that. “We do need to establish a bat handler along the way. Someday…perhaps when we’ve driven the Alliance out of Andorhal.”</p><p>“What was so important that you had me ride all the way from the Eastern Plaguelands to be here?”</p><p>“Maybe I just wanted to see your smiling face…” Sylvanas laughed. She enjoyed teasing him and toying with him. He hated it.</p><p>“We both know <em>that</em> isn’t the reason,” he replied dryly.</p><p>Sylvanas sighed. “Very well, though I <em>do</em> enjoy your company. I don’t know why, but I do. I wanted to talk to you about the Quel’Dorei at the Quel’Lithien Lodge.” She rose and started walking to a doorway that was hidden by a large, rotting curtain. “Come, I wish to discuss this in private. Bring your hounds; they can stand guard outside my chambers.”</p><p>Were he alive, desire would have stirred at the thought of going to Sylvanas’ chambers with her.  Many times, they had enjoyed each other in the chambers of one or the other. Indeed, there were many summonses he had answered that had ended with them in bed. Those times were long past, and the memories belonged to a dead man.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Several hours later Nathanos found himself walking to the War Quadrant in search of a weapon smith. He needed replacements for both of his axes, especially if he was going to fulfill the Dark Lady’s wishes concerning Quel’Lithien Lodge. His hounds sniffed the air and the Forsaken, often growling menacingly at them. The few living who visited Undercity gave him a wide berth. There had been a time he fought trolls and orcs; now they were uneasy allies. He followed the ‘clang clang’ sounds of hammer on metal to the blacksmiths. A woman with brittle hair that had once been a dirty brown was beating a piece of metal into shape.</p><p>“You. I need two axes made. Now.”</p><p>“Wait your turn. Can’t you see I’m working here?” she rasped back. The steel she was working on had quickly gone from a bright orange red to a dull red color as she pounded it, and she used a pair of tongs to pick it up and thrust it back into the forge. Nathanos looked closely at the arm holding the tongs. It was metallic, though covered in rust and old, dried blood stains. A memory stirred in his mind of more innocent times. He shook his head in an attempt to drive it away.</p><p>She turned and looked at him. “Now, what is it…” She frowned and looked at him closer. “Do I know you?” she asked, pointing her hammer at him. “Something about you looks familiar…from a lifetime ago…that armor…”</p><p>“I didn’t come here to reminisce, smith. I need new axes. My old ones broke cleaving some dolt’s head in two. They will still work as clubs to split your skull open if need be.”</p><p>She stood there for a moment, squinting her eyes at him. “I remember…long ago… an asshole who thought he was better than the rest…because he <em>was</em> better than us. Used two axes…Nathanos Marris! That’s you!” Her yellow eyes glowed a little brighter in recognition. “I-I had hoped you had escaped to Stormwind.”</p><p>“Marris is dead. I’m Nathanos Blightcaller now. You were Therese Adlam. Damn good blacksmith.”</p><p>“You’re the Banshee Queen’s champion! I should have known. You two grew pretty close in life –”</p><p>“I didn’t come here to listen to ancient gossip!” he growled threateningly.</p><p>“Understood. I’m still a damn good smith, and now I don’t get tired. That’s about the only good thing about being Forsaken.”</p><p>Nathanos snorted. “Just like you to find something good about this damned curse.” He paused and frowned. “What happened? Did anyone get away?”</p><p>Therese pulled the hot steel from the forge and started beating on it again. She formed it into a rough dagger shape, not saying anything.</p><p>
  <em>The sun shone brightly as she worked on her latest piece. The smell of bread was in the air. A new shipment of grain had arrived from Andorhal and people were busy baking bread and making fresh butter. There were rumors that Prince Arthas was somewhere in Eastweald, possibly heading toward Stratholme. The act of creation soothed her soul. Heat the metal, beat it until it was too cool to move, reheat it, beat it some more. The rhythm echoed the beating of her heart, sweat soaking her shirt and plastering her hair to her head. This sword was a gift to Kerwin, the man she was to wed, and she was putting all of her love into it.</em>
</p><p>“If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine.”</p><p>“I had a small shop south of Stratholme. The guild had a large house just down the road.”</p><p>“I remember,” he said dourly.</p><p>
  <em>The smell of freshly baked bread hung in the air, but it smelled off somehow. The sound of screams filled the air along with…animal sounds? She couldn’t make out the shapes coming toward her. They looked human but didn’t move like humans. They were in the shop. She felled one with her hammer and blocked another with her metal arm. The smell of death overwhelmed her as they attacked. Her eyes opened wide in shock as she recognized the tabard of the guild, torn and blood soaked on these beasts…</em>
</p><p>“We got a shipment of grain. You can guess the rest.”</p><p>“You ate the bread and joined the Lich King’s army.”</p><p>“They did. I was working on…something. Then they got me, and I turned. My arm wasn’t a problem anymore. I clubbed people then tore them apart with my good arm.” She returned the dagger into the forge and pulled the chain that operated the bellows several times bringing the forge to life again.</p><p>
  <em>The scent of fresh blood filled his nostrils. Blood and gore dripped from his chin as he devoured his latest victim. A sudden movement caught his eye and he saw the man face him with some of the hard metal in his hand. “Bring him into the army,” the Lich King’s voice rang in his head. He dropped the bits of flesh he had been gorging on and ran to his new prey. He swung at his prey, but the prey moved and avoided the attack. He swung again and the prey hit him with the sharp metal. He snarled as the metal bit him deeply, but it got caught in his arm and he pulled the man’s arm close and bit deeply. The man screamed in pain and let go of the metal. He brought his other claw down and raked across the man’s face and chest, opening deep gashes. He could feel the prey dying and bit him deeply in the throat. The prey thrashed and fought until it went still. He dropped it and waited. The blood hadn’t even gone cold when it heard the Lich King’s call and opened glowing eyes to find more prey…</em>
</p><p>“Are you ok?”</p><p>“What? Yes, I’m fine,” he declared, snapping out of his reverie. “What were you saying?”</p><p>“I was asking if you remembered the guild opening a chapter in Southshore, and one near Stormwind?</p><p>“Yes, of course I do,” he snapped. Memories were coming back to him, but they were full of holes. This happened sometimes, and the best way to handle them was to kill something.</p><p>“Norwin and his redhead went to Southshore. I haven’t heard anything from him or of him since the plague. Not that I went looking for him. He’d probably kill us if we approached him. Preston was visiting the guild house when the plague struck. I’m pretty sure he died in Quel’Thalas as part of Arthas’ fodder. His wife and child were at home in Southshore. I don’t know what happened to them.”</p><p>
  <em>They were in the woods trading punches. Preston was looking pretty bad but just kept fighting. Punch after punch, both men releasing pent up frustration on the other. One fighting because he was tired of the rebellion from the other, and the second because of a secret love for the mentor of the first. Blood flowed and spattered from cuts and a broken nose. In the end the seeds of a friendship had been planted...</em>
</p><p>“What about Anselme?”</p><p>“He was leading the Stormwind chapter of the guild. I think he survived. Again, I’m not going to go searching for him. This isn’t life, but it <em>is</em> an existence and I don’t want to give that up.”</p><p>“None of us do. Funny how we cling to existence, no matter how harsh it is.”</p><p>They stood there, watching the flames of the forge as the steel heated up again. Talking of the past wasn’t something the Forsaken did often; the pain was too intense.</p><p>“I’ll have your axes done by tomorrow afternoon. No charge. This is a service to the Dark Lady’s Champion.”</p><p>Nathanos nodded and went to the archery range. There were standard targets and some Scarlet Crusade prisoners there. He chose the prisoners and emptied his quiver into them, impervious to their pleas and screams.</p><p>The next day he returned to the blacksmiths. Therese wasn’t there. Some simpering fool of an apprentice handed him two axes that were more like cleavers. He hefted them, getting a feel for them. The balance was perfect, and he swung them with little effort. She was still a damn fine smith.</p><p>He left Undercity and the ruins of Lordaeron and returned to his post. He took every chance he could to hunt down prey and get used to his new axes. By the time he returned to the crumbling house on the hill he was once again the cold, stoic killer who served his Queen faithfully.</p><p>
  <em>The autumn sun shone low in the sky as he rode his horse eastward. The wind blew gently carrying the scents of early autumn: freshly turned earth, tree leaves just beginning to turn, freshly harvested grain. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the large house on the hill, and he laughed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Father! Mother! I’m home!”</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story popped up as I was writing my other story. I started thinking about who would have survived the Plague and who didn't. There are a couple of characters with an open ended destiny. I didn't want doom and gloom for everyone.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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